


Thank You Molly Hooper

by batyalewbel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever noticed her. That's what made her special</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Molly is my spirit animal and deserves all the fics in the world. Originally posted on FF.net

He had explained to me about a pill that would induce a death like state. He had explained that he might be injured in some way and seeming like he was dead.

But when they wheeled this body in I almost cried. The side of his face was bloody and bruised. his curly black hair was soaked and sticking to his forehead.

He had told me to give him an injection when he came in and see to his injuries. He said if it was bad I should call his brother Mycroft.

Looking at that still face I couldn't help but wonder if this plan had failed. Maybe he was dead for real. My hands shook as I gently touched the side of his face. Then I went racing off to the counter to pick up the bottle with that chemical that would counteract that pill.

Readying the needle with one hand I dialed the number Sherlock gave me.

A few rings and an answer.

"Sherlock said I might receive a call from you" the man's voice sounded strangely calm.

"How is he?" The man asked. I stared at the phone for a moment wondering at this man and his brother. I will never understand how their minds work. But that wasn't important right now

"Get a brain surgeon to the morgue"

When a man showed up with an umbrella standing next to another man wearing a surgeons mask so I couldn't see his face, I didn't ask questions. I stood aside and let them enter.

The one in the surgeon mask immediately asked for tools. A scalpel and forceps and things like that. I got it all for him and stood nearby in case he needed anything else.

He was muttering about pressure from the brain being swollen and he asked for a drill.

The man with the umbrella didn't move or speak. He just stood there never taking his eyes off of Sherlock.

They had to keep Sherlock in the morgue since there was no safer place for him. We had him set up in the tiny room that was meant to be my office since nobody ever went in there. When I was around I kept the door open.

So he lay like a corpse on a gurney with bloody bandages around is head. Mycroft stopped by on occasion to sit with him. The man in the surgeon mask stopped by to check on him once or twice.

Meanwhile I did like I had agreed to do and found a corpse that would be Sherlock's stand in.

It was goullish and disturbing but there were hundreds of John Does sitting in this morgue. At least one of them got a proper burial. Sherlock's funeral wasn't open casket and John was happy to let me take care of things.

I didn't get to talk to John that much. Not that he was very talkative. At the funeral he was pale and stiff. More like the shell of a person. It was hard to see him like that and not be able to tell him the truth but Sherlock had made me swear.

But watching John stand there with tears silently dripping down his face, it was hard.

After the funeral I went back to the morgue. When I turned on the lights I found Sherlock was finally waking up. He had been unconscious for 5 days.

I walked over to the gurney and I could hear his incoherent mumbling. The only thing that made sense was 'John.' He kept saying his name over and over again. One hand clenching the side of the gurney and his face screwed up in pain he just kept saying his name.

There wasn't much I could do…biting my lower lip I reached out and put my hand on his. Then his eyes flew open and I could see he was having a hard time focusing. I stood and waited while that amazing mind of his put it all together. As soon as his eyes found me I could see it all click in his eyes. His face went a little tight but he said nothing. I decided to be cheerful and simply said

"Morning Sherlock!" something twitched on his face as his eyes flicked from the window to me.

"It's not morning Molly," he stated his words a little slurred, for a moment I thought he was going to say more but he didn't. He sat quietly staring at the wall for a long time. I just stood there because I didn't know what else to do.

Then very suddenly he moved to try and stand. I put my hands on his shoulders to hold him down.

"Sherlock you aren't ready to move around on your own yet." I told him and for a moment he glared at me with such venom I took a step back. But that melted away leaving him empty and grey. He didn't struggle anymore. He just looked at me and said

"I lied to him, Molly" I didn't have to ask who.

"About what?"

"I told him everything in the papers was true and that I'm a fake," bitterness seeped into his voice.

"Why?"

"I thought it would be easier for him to move on if he hated me" Now his face twisted and he turned on his side so I couldn't see his face.

I thought of John standing over Sherlock's grave with tears leaking down his face. I put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. At first he moved to shake it off but then to my surprise he didn't.

"Sherlock I think no matter what you said to him John could never hate you." Sherlock didn't say anything for another few moments

"Has the funeral happened already?"

"Yes."

"Did you go?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"Did you see him?

"Yes."

Another long silence. I think Sherlock wasn't sure how to ask so I just told him everything I could. While I spoke Sherlock turned over so he could face me. Probably trying to deduce extra information from my expressions or something.

I told him that Lestrade, Anderson, and John had come to morgue to ID the fake corpse. Mycroft had done good work and the corpse was convincing. After they agreed it was Sherlock, Anderson muttered something to effect of 'good riddance' and John punched him in the face.

That made Sherlock smile, a little.

I told him that Mrs. Hudson had been the one to speak at his funeral. John seemed to have lost the ability to speak when they stood at his grave. But I had seen the day before that he had updated his blog. I pulled up the site on my phone.

"I know he didn't say anything at your funeral but he wrote this on the blog"

Sherlock immediately grabbed the phone from my hand and squinted at the screen. After a few moments of squinting he handed it back mumbling,

"Eyes can't focus very well right now. Read it to me." I stared at him for a moment seeing that hard look in his eyes. Taking the phone back I looked at the screen and read it

"He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him."

This silence was the longest. Sherlock didn't say anything but his face pinched and he bit his lower lip. He turned his back to me again.

This time I stood up and turned to go. I knew Sherlock's pride all too well and I was sure he wouldn't want anybody seeing him like this.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock's recovery was slow. I knew this frustrated him but to his credit his outbursts were rare. His only real outburst came after another two weeks.

I got a call from Mrs. Hudson saying her and John would be visiting Sherlock if I wanted to come. I declined but Sherlock was getting better now. The bandages were off and the scars were slowly becoming invisible.

"I know you were fond of him, so if you would like to come…" she trailed off. I felt bad saying no but I was afraid to leave Sherlock on his own. At the moment he lay on his gurney wearing some of the clothes Mycroft had smuggled out of his flat. He had his hands together touching his chin.

"No I can't I'm sorry, but give John…my um…regards…" At the sound of the name Sherlock's eyes went to me gluing themselves to me.

"It's all right dear, I will" Mrs. Hudson murmured and we said our goodbyes. Sherlock's eyes never left my face. I decided to speak first,

"That was Mrs. Hudson…her and John are visiting your grave today." He still didn't speak he just kept staring at me.

I sighed and sat next to the gurney placing my hand on the rail of it.

"Do you want to see him?" Still he said nothing, but his eyes went a little wider and he grabbed my hand.

I nodded my understanding and went to find his coat and scarf.

When we got to the cemetery Sherlock finally spoke. Three words.

"Please wait here." So I did. I watched him slink into the graveyard keeping out of sight. I could even see John and Mrs. Hudson. Two distant figures bending under the weight of their grief. I could just make out Sherlock's figure from the trees he was hiding behind. Sherlock didn't move. When Mrs. Hudson walked away John stood there longer. He touched the headstone and spoke. I suppose Sherlock could probably read lips or maybe even hear what he was saying but I could guess.

Finally he turned on his heel and went to join Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock stood there for what seemed like an age. When John and Mrs. Hudson were out of sight he got back into the car.

He didn't say a word the whole way back to the morgue. But once we stepped back inside he threw off his coat and scarf and stood there fuming.

I said nothing and just stood there. And I kept standing there as he ran around and started breaking things. Beakers and cups. Anything breakable shattered as it hit the floor. Some papers and manila folders just floated down amidst the mess. For a minute he was a human tornado creating wreckage in his wake. With one last roar of frustration he threw down a magnifying glass and watched it fall and shatter. Then he looked over at me.

I went and got a broom from the cupboard.

And to his credit he got the dustpan.

After another few weeks Mycroft had it sorted to smuggle Sherlock out of the country. So when he showed up with his umbrella in one hand and train tickets in the other I simply nodded. As I walked over I saw him slipping something into Sherlock's suitcase. Some piece of paper. I pointed to my office where Sherlock still stayed. Mycroft went without a word and my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled out the paper to see it was a photo. Some sort of surveillance photo I think. But it was of him and John. They were in a cab. John was laughing and Sherlock looked out the window with a small smile of his own. I put it back as Sherlock and Mycroft stepped out. Neither of them said a word if they saw that I was being nosy. Maybe after all I had done I was allowed that luxury. So I stood there uncertain of what to do. There was a long moment where the three of us stood there. I thought maybe Mycroft would shake my hand or something.

Sherlock stepped forward and looked down at me. I wasn't expecting much from him. I was fully aware of what our relationship was. I had no illusions and knew that too. Still he surprised me when he leaned down to place his lips gently on mine. After a moment he pulled away and moved to whisper in my ear.

"Thank you Molly" then he stood straight and joined his brother to walk out the door. Typical Sherlock, he didn't look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's more because this was my Reichenbach fix it fic.  
> We all had to write one to deal with the trauma. By the way this theory about how he made it is barely a theory. Just enough to make the fic work. I didn't put a lot of thought into it.


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't hear much from Sherlock for the next three years. On birthdays and Christmas I would get a text saying something like

'best wishes -SH'

That was most of my contact. Sometimes I got curious though. Mycroft had left me a number to call him if I needed anything. All I had to do was say, "Molly Hooper" and the voice on the other end would hurry off and soon be replaced by the cold tones of Mycroft Holmes. My calls were rare but sometimes I couldn't help it. I asked how he was doing, how he had gotten settled in...in whatever country he was in. I had agreed to not ask questions about where exactly he was.

Mycroft would give me short, terse answers. But he never turned me away. Again I suppose this was my reward for helping Sherlock. My curiosity was tolerated.

And that was it for a long time. I wish I could say in that time I found myself a nice man but that isn't my life.

I visited John sometimes.

It took awhile but I could see he was healing. Maybe healing wasn't the right word. Every time I saw him I could see the change. He was slow to smile and quicker to frown, there were more worry lines on his face and he was thinner. He was living some kind of life again. I knew he was back to working at a hospital. He had moved away from London and he was now living in Cardiff.

But sometimes John came back to London to visit Mrs. Hudson, Detective Inspector Lestrade joined them on occasion. I was a few times. 221B hadn't been sold. It was left as it was until John was ready to sort through it. It was awkward. I felt horrible sitting there with them knowing what i did. John said almost nothing so Mrs. Hudson carried most of the conversation. When DI Lestrade was there he helped with that.

Other than our meetings, life was uneventful. Slowly the papers moved on from Sherlock. Occasionally a story popped up where one stagehand swore that after seeing Richard Brooks' resume and being in several of those shows he had no memory of such a man. Little things like that would pop up and fade away. People Sherlock had saved were treated like victims now. Victims of Sherlock Holmes. Some bought into it and others refused the press saying they believed in him.

I tried not to follow it obsessively. But i kept an eye on things. The papers never mentioned John. I think Mycroft was involved in that.

And so time passed slowly and sadly. Sherlock would have called it dull. I called it empty. life was a little emptier without his drama. I missed him swooping in and throwing everything on its head. the morgue was certainly quieter without him. And that was that.

After two years and several months had passed though things changed a little.

I was just sitting at home on my computer doing my taxes when my phone beeped in the kitchen. I went to get it. It was a text from Sherlock. I leaned against the counter as I opened it. It just said:

'How is he? -SH'

Again I didn't have to ask who. I had seen him a few weeks earlier for tea at Mrs. Hudson's, he was ok. As ok as he could be.

But again me and my never ending curiosity. I asked him

'Why not ask Mycroft?' I waited several minutes for a reply. When it came I clicked the text open to see

'My brother and I don't really do emotions. You and John do.' That left me speechless for a moment. Before I could even begin to text my response my phone beeped again.

'So how is he?' I almost smiled.

'He's coping. He's sadder than he was before but he's managing as best he can. He misses you a lot.'

Then there was no response for several hours. When my phone beeped again I was watching some telly. It was another text from Sherlock which said

"You may be hearing from my brother about our conversation. My apologies -SH'

Moments later the phone rang and I picked it up after the first ring.

"Ms. Hooper might I recommend you consult with me before you answer my brother so frankly." The words were icy and all business. I would never understand the Holmes brothers.

"He just wanted to know how John was doing and apparently you weren't very forthcoming." I told him. Sherlock had once given me a vague explanation of who Mycroft was and what he did for a living. It sounded quite shady. I wondered in passing if I would find snipers outside my door waiting to arrest me. The thought passed when Mycroft continued,

"The reason for this whole exercise is to keep him safe, and hidden. Now he's been getting antsy. It makes him reckless. Your conversation has not helped." He spoke slowly emphasizing his words. I sighed and leaned back in my arm chair staring at the ceiling.

I really didn't know what to do with these people.

"Then why don't you fix it so he can come back" I emphasized my words too and the whole statement surprised both of us I think. I'm not usually forthcoming, or anything bordering on rude. I think Sherlock would have approved of my words though so I didn't apologize.

Mycroft didn't speak for a long time. Finally the nervousness came back and I asked quietly.

"I'm not going to get in trouble for this am I?" A sigh filtered through the speaker.

"No, you will not get in 'trouble.' Good day, Ms. Hooper." And with that he hung up leaving me to stare at my cell bewildered.

Another few months passed and then I got another text from Sherlock. I was in the morgue when the phone beeped.

'I need you to ask Mycroft if he has done something to my phone or John's

-SH' Molly stared at it puzzled and then sighed.

'Why don't you ask him'

'I won't speak to him' I sighed again.

'Why/how could he have done something to your phone or John's?'

'Don't know how but I stopped receiving texts from John' I raised my eyebrows at the screen. Did something very important happen and I missed it?

'What texts?' a few minutes later my phone beeped a lot and could see the forwarded texts from John. Some were three years old. Some were from a couple months ago.

2 years, 7 months and 3 days ago

-'Please come back'

2 years, 6 months and 29 days ago

-'stop being dead'

2 years, 6 months and 20 days ago

-'Lestrade had a murder he couldn't solve the other day.'

2 years, 6 months and 19 days ago

-'The killer got away. Please come back'

2 years, 6 months and 17 days ago

-'My hands been shaking again'

2 years, 5 months and 3 days ago

-'I hate you'

2 years, 5 months and 1 day ago

-'I'm sorry'

2 years, 4 months and 28 days ago

-'Why did you lie to me?'

2 years, 3 months and 14 days ago

-'I still believe you'

The messages went on but Molly had to stop. This was too personal. So she texted Sherlock back

'How long since he last messaged you?'

'4 months' I was nodding at my phone like he was right there in the room with me as I dialed Mycroft's number.

Ring ring, ring ring

"Hello?"

"Molly Hooper trying to re—" the voice at the other end cut her off

"One moment" and footsteps raced away. Barely a minute later(record time for Mycroft) he answered

"I've been expecting this call Ms. Hooper" the elder Holmes sounded tired today.

"Sherlock wants to know if you have something to do with him not receiving any texts from John for the past four months," I told him. It's much easier to be straightforward when it's for someone else. My answer was a sigh. I was so familiar with Mycroft's sighing at this point I was wondering if I should start to label each one.

"No I haven't done anything and he didn't listen when I tried to tell him. I suppose John is realizing it is a lost cause now." I bit my lip. Mycroft could be just as harsh as his brother. No wonder Sherlock didn't want to speak to him.

"And I suppose I will need you to remind him…" he trailed off and muttered under his breath,

"I would have preferred this not being public knowledge but since he has forced you to be our go between…" Another sigh  
"Tell him that he can't come back until we have found Moran. It's not safe for him yet. And just because Lestrade has forgiven him or believes him, I don't care which, doesn't mean the rest of the police will be so kind." As he spoke I wrote on a notepad

Haven't found Moran

Lestrade vs. angry police I'm sure Sherlock would have laughed if he had seen but this seemed important and I didn't want to leave anything out.

"Ok I'll tell him" I said

"Good day Ms. Hooper" he said and then he hung up. I typed out my response as quick as I could, mind you I had to proofread first. Once I sent a text to my friend saying her soup looked good when I meant her hair! She didn't let me forget it for a week.

So I told Sherlock what Mycroft said. There was no response for an hour but finally my phone chirped as I was packing up to go. I almost fell over in my haste to grab it.

The text simply said

'Thank you Molly. -SH'

And that was the last I heard from anybody for months. Barring my birthday when I got another 'Best wishes -SH'

Then one day about 3 months later, on a Sunday I think, I got a text as I was heading out to see a friend. It said.

'Back in 221B. Get John. -SH'

And I had to smile a little. I definitely agreed with him. It had been long enough.

Time to come home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the texting and signature thing didn't get annoying. It felt repetitive...


	4. Chapter 4

With that text from Sherlock I went to put my hair up and my phone beeped again

'Don't say anything to him.' I wasnt sure whether to laugh or make a face at that. I had been keeping a big secret from John this whole time. I hoped he wouldn't be mad in the end.

Of course the selfish part of me wanted to run over at that very moment and see Sherlock for myself but I knew I wasn't who he wanted.

I called John and said that we should go see Mrs. Hudson.

He agreed and I told Mrs. Hudson we should make him go in the old flat. She agreed and we both sat in her kitchen waiting. We heard him come up the steps and knock on her door. That's when Mrs. Hudson bustled out. I could hear the conversation.

"John we're in here."

I could hear footsteps but they stopped. I imagine Mrs. Hudson stopped him from coming in. Then a small silence.

"Now I know this is hard but I think it's time you went inside 221B again."

Another long silence

"It's time you faced him John"

An even longer silence and finally words,

"Ok Mrs. Hudson…but I'd rather do it alone if that's alright"

"That's fine dear."

Mrs. Hudson came back in and we could hear the door of 221B open and close. They were right next door and the walls were thin.

There was the sound of something crashing and words. 2 voices talking. Mrs. Hudson looked alarmed as she turned to me and I couldn't help but smile.

"Sherlock's back, Mrs. Hudson." I told her. It effectively silenced her and I went back to eavesdropping. The voices were muffled but I could just make out the words.

"You can't be real. You can't. After three years I've just gone and lost it."

"I'm real."

"No, no you're not."

"Bring in Molly if you want proof." I looked over at Mrs. Hudson who was now just sitting with a hand over her mouth, processing.

I heard 221B's door open and slam shut and then John opened the Mrs. Hudson's door. He tried to sound normal but his voice cracked a little.

"Molly could you step in there with me for a moment?" At this point I should have said something but I was a little scared to. I didn't know what to say. I just nodded and followed him into their flat. Up the stairs Sherlock was sitting on the sofa hands folded in his lap. He looked a bit more tan since the last time I had seen him. A little tired and a little leaner. But otherwise unchanged.

"Do you see...?" John waved at the taller man. The desperation was palpable.

"Yes. I see him. Hello Sherlock." I nodded to him. He inclined his head

"Hello Molly" John gaped at us but I was already backing out of the room .

There was only silence as I made my way out of the flat and raced back into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen to listen. I could imagine them standing there staring at each other in silence. Seeing how time had and hadn't changed them. Long looks into each others eyes to try and see if they still feel the same…although that might have been my brain getting a little dramatic.

When I got back into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen I finally heard something.

"John I can explai—" then the sound of something else crashing. And silence.

The next words were quiet and I am a little embarrassed to admit how close I was to wall, and leaning still closer to try and catch it.

"Get out Sherlock, get out right now." The next words were even softer.

"I'm sorry John"

Then I heard footsteps and the door opening and closing. Sherlock stepped into Mrs. Hudson's flat. His nose was bleeding through the tissues he held against it. I think he was trying very hard not to look sad.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, always a pleasure." His voice sounded more nasal than usual thanks to the bloody nose.

"Oh Sherlock…" was all Mrs. Hudson could manage as she went to get some ice. He came in and sat down.

"Tilt your head back" I advised and he nodded. When Mrs. Hudson brought back the icepack I took it from her and applied it gently to his face. I just kept staring at him as I adjusted the icepack and he reached up letting his hand touch mine as he took the icepack from me.

"Thank you Molly," he murmured. After staring at me for a moment he decided to elaborate.

"He punched me and then he told me to leave," his voice sounded smaller somehow and I just nodded.

"It has been three years." I told him and now he nodded. Mrs. Hudson seemed unable to speak but she reached out and held Sherlock's free hand. He didn't try and stop her.

After a few minutes John came storming into the flat. He stood in front of Sherlock his hands fisted at his sides.

"You asshole. You great big bloody bastard. I could kill you for this." He spoke fast through gritted teeth.

Sherlock stood up and placed the icepack on the table.

"Do what you must," he said.

John stood there for a long moment shifting his weight from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his hands. Finally he grabbed Sherlock wrapping his arms around the taller man in a tight bear hug. Sherlock's grip on the shorter man was just as tight.

"You bastard" John muttered into his shoulder and Sherlock chuckled.

At that point I tapped Mrs. Hudson on the shoulder and gestured at the door. This wasn't for us to see.

We went next door into 221B. It seemed appropriate to wait for them there.

They sat in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen and talked for hours. The words were said softly and I didn't try to listen in.

Eventually they came back to 221B and sat with us in the main room. John came over and hugged me. He thanked me for helping Sherlock. Somebody had called Lestrade and he joined us there shortly after. Once we all got settled Sherlock explained why he had to fake his death and hide out. While he spoke he sat in his armchair and John had pulled up an extra chair from the kitchen next to it. John leaned a little on the side of Sherlock's chair and Sherlock let his hand rest just beside John's arm.

Sherlock was skimping on the details of what happened that fateful day but I figured he had already told John everything in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. Still when he got to my involvement he even managed a little smile for me. It was all I could ask for really.

Soon Sherlock's story led to a massive catch up. Sherlock needed to know what everyone else had been up to. It was fun but i was starting to feel like the odd one out. Sherlock was back with his family and I was that awkward second cousin who didn't quite fit. It seemed wrong of me to stay there and intrude. Eventually I stood up and said my goodbyes. John told me i was welcome to stop by anytime. Sherlock even walked me to the door.

In the doorway he seemed almost uncertain of what to say.

"Don't worry Sherlock you don't need say anything other than thank you," I told him, and he looked puzzled.

"But I already said that."

"I know, you can say it again, it's enough" He looked down at me his eyes searching for those clues that would tell him everything. After a moment he nodded. He reached around me to open the door and then faced me. Placing his hands on my shoulders he leaned down and surprised me again. A gentle kiss on the forehead. He pulled away slowly, I think he was giving me time to enjoy it. Another reward for what I had done. Or maybe it was just simple gratitude. He knew exactly how I felt and I knew how he felt. It wasn't a pity kiss, it was a thank you kiss. It was like a brother to a sister which was all we would ever be. Still he looked down at me with those blue grey eyes that saw everything.

"Thank you Molly Hooper." He meant every word as he took his hands off my shoulders. John was waiting for him inside. I smiled big at him and nodded before turning and walking away.

I was right about one thing though.

It was enough.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously I love Molly and she is perfect to me. Any thoughts on the story feel free to let me know^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sherlock not knowing how to express his emotions K?
> 
> Also this is going to be published in that Art of Deduction Sherlock fanbook thing(yay) But if anybody just needs to gush about Molly or has something to say about the story let me know ^_^
> 
> Also sorry about any typos. I do suck that way


End file.
